


muddy hymnal

by mothman182



Series: may the sunrise bring hope [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Animal Death, Conflict Resolution, Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mercy Killing, the animal dying isn't explicit but it is a plot point, this is a john winchester hate blog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothman182/pseuds/mothman182
Summary: Dean came barreling into the house, slamming the door open. He knew he was tracking mud and rain and blood through the mudroom and into the house but he couldn't think of that right now."Godfuckingdamn it!"Stomping towards his gun cabinet, he ripped his gloves off and threw them on the floor. He was soaked and cold and unimaginably angry."What happened?"Dean grit his teeth, "Coyotes got into thefuckingsheep again,"
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: may the sunrise bring hope [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140677
Kudos: 11





	muddy hymnal

**Author's Note:**

> true to form, here i am almost 2 years after my last fic in a completely different fandom. 
> 
> the finale got me bummed so i wanted to write something that made me happy (even tho this is still a lil sad)
> 
> i hope you enjoy! 💛

Dean came barreling into the house, slamming the door open. He knew he was tracking mud and rain and blood through the mudroom and into the house but he couldn't think of that right now.

"God _fucking_ damn it!"

Stomping towards his gun cabinet, he ripped his gloves off and threw them on the floor. He was soaked and cold and unimaginably angry.

Castiel was in front of the fire, knitting with the TV on in the background. He startled when Dean had entered. With one look at Dean, Cas' eyes widened. From the side of his periphery, Dean saw Cas put his project to the side and stand. He inched forward, trepidatious. Hands tucked under his arms as the cold wind blew through the house.

"What happened?"

Dean grit his teeth, "Coyotes got into the _fucking_ sheep again," he spat, opening the cabinet door and grabbed his pistol. He took a single shell from the case.

Cas noticed this.

Dean could feel him creep closer.

"Dean, what are you-?"

Dean swallowed back the thickness in his throat.

"I-I can't-" Dean tried not to let his sadness override his anger. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand before loading the shell into the chamber.

"They got a lamb, Cas. But they- they didn't kill it."

"Oh, fuck," Cas sighed and ran a hand over his eyes.

Dean snapped the chamber shut and clicked the safety on before tucking the gun in the pocket of his Carhartt. He tried to detatch himself from this, tried to think rationally. There was nothing he could do. It would be selfish to make that lamb wait any longer than necessary.

As he turned to walk away, Cas took Dean's arm. When Cas took his hand from his eyes, Dean saw his brain running a million miles an hour through his eyes. "You don't have to do this, isn't there _anything_ else-"

Dean shook him off, "Cas, I can't _do_ anything-"

"Why can't you _try-_ "

Dean couldn't take it anymore. Tears burned behind his eyes and fury bubbled in his chest.

"Because its _fucking leg_ is detached! I can't _do_ anything! I wish I could but _I can't!"_ Dean couldn't help the few tears that passed his lashes. He felt his face pinch in frustration. He locked eyes with Cas. Even though Cas looked apologetic, Dean's floodgates had already opened. 

"You think I _want_ to do this? You think this is _easy_ for me?! _It's not!_ But it's the right thing to do. And making it wait any longer is just torture! So just _shut up_ and let me do what I need to do. You can guilt me about it later!"

Dean stormed off, the pounding rain like white noise on his skin. Blood rushed in his ears. He let the wind slam the door behind him. 

The metal of the gun was cool against his palm and heavy with purpose. Rain mixed with Dean's tears and he felt hot under his jacket as anger mixed with shame. This wasn't his first time, but it never got easier. Especially with something as vulnerable and pure as a lamb. A tiny life Dean was supposed to protect. 

But there was no other way. This was the last act of mercy the lamb would see in its life. Dean needed to take that as a responsibility instead of a burden. 

Accepting the reality of what he was about to do, Dean walked out into the pasture.

\- 

It was past nine when Dean came back inside.

The rain had settled some since he first came out, but hadn't stopped. Water had soaked through his jeans and his boots were caked in mud. He tapped off the muck on the corner of the porch the best he could before toeing the boots off and opening the screen door. The boots were left in the mudroom. Dean would wait for them to dry and knock them off in the morning. His socks were still fairly dry. Dean thanked whoever invented leather boots for that.

Not wanting to drip water and blood all through the house, Dean figured he'd leave his pants in the mudroom try dry overnight as well. He was not in the mood for laundry.

He took the pistol from his pocket, hung up his jacket, and padded inside. 

Cas must have mopped up the blood and mud Dean tracked in earlier because the wood floor was clean.

A long, deep sigh escaped Dean's chest. The day was over. He was done.

Now he had to deal with a different responsibility: apologizing to Cas.

Even though he knew he needed to, it always took a bit of warming up. Dean grew up in a home where apologies didn't happen from adults all too often. He only had to apologize for his own mistakes, coupled with the burning shame that he had to admit he did something wrong. That vulnerability didn't sit well with him. But with Castiel, things were different. There was a softness in Cas, an understanding. Neither of their childhoods was particularly easy, and they understood that about each other. But Cas pushed Dean to move past it. They wouldn't be able to coexist if they held silent grudges against each other as their parents did. They wanted to be better. But that wasn't always easy.

Dean set the gun on the kitchen table, mud from his hands leaving streaks on the metal. Specks of blood still stuck to the barrel. 

He noticed the fire in the hearth was almost out. Dean stoked it before setting another small log along the flame, careful not to suffocate it.

He made his way to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was soaked with rain and he had a swipe of mud on his cheekbone where he had wiped at his tears with his knuckles. He was flushed pink from the cold. Mud and compost had settled underneath his fingernails and coated his hands. There was still blood. 

Dean washed his hands before getting in the shower.

For a while he just stood under the warm spray, shivering and watching the gritty mixture of red and black and brown swirl down the drain. Still blood. 

With his guard down, he started to cry.

Dean rubbed his eyes and scrubbed his arms. All he could hear was that little lamb screaming.

As he went through the motions of soaping himself up and washing his hair, he kept telling himself _"it was the right thing to do, it was the right thing to do, you couldn't just let it bleed out, you couldn't let it suffer, it was the right thing to do"_ over and over. 

Once the water ran clear, Dean took one last moment to duck his head under the spray and wipe his face. He took a deep breath and turned the water off. His wedding ring felt heavy where it rested against his sternum, hanging on the leather loop around his neck.

He dried off and slipped a robe on before heading back to the kitchen to start brewing a cup of decaf coffee. The lights were low and the wind raged outside. As he waited, Dean busied himself by disassembling and cleaning his gun. When he finished he tucked it away in the cabinet before he headed to their bedroom, mug in hand. 

Dean hesitated outside the door. A dim glow illuminated the crack underneath. Cas was awake. Dean wouldn't be able to slide into bed and pretend like this never happened. 

Dean knew he fucked up. He knew he shouldn't have said those things to Cas but... it was the heat of the moment. Cas would understand that, wouldn't he? He always did but... there was always a creeping suspicion that this would be it, the straw that broke the camel's back, that Dean was just _too broken_ to forgive this time.

Dean wiped his eyes again and took a deep breath. Then opened the door. 

Castiel was in bed, knitting again. _Creek Drank the Cradle_ by Iron & Wine played ever so softly from their little record player on the dresser. Cas flicked his eyes up at Dean for a moment before turning back to the... scarf? Blanket? Whatever he was working on. 

"Good evening, Dean."

Dean felt a huge lump in his stomach start to form.

"Hey, Cas," he said, clearing his throat after. Still a bit swollen from crying. 

He set his coffee on the nightstand and rustled through his clothes, pulling out blue boxer briefs and a comfortable grey shirt to sleep in. He rid himself of his robe before quickly changing. Cas didn't look up. Dean was thankful.

The moments before apologizing were so agonizing. The awkward silence as Dean tried to gather his thoughts, knowing that Cas was waiting for him. Patient as ever, the bastard.

Dean slipped under the covers and took his mug between his palms. He watched the steam come off the top and relished the warmth on his raw, calloused hands. He tried to collect his thoughts before looking at Cas again.

Dean swallowed. _I'm sorry I talked to you like that, I know it was out of line. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I was just frustrated and scared and what you said made me feel like you were judging me. Or- well, I shouldn't talk about myself. Regardless of how I felt, I shouldn't have said it. This isn't about me. Cas, it was a shitty situation but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I know I'm not a perfect person and I'm so sorry I always do this to you. I don't deserve someone like you, I don't deserve-_

"Something on your mind?"

Castiel's gentle voice pulled him out of his trance.

"Sorry," Dean replied sheepishly. He took a sip of coffee.

It felt good, the heat radiating from his insides. He was nervous, but he was ready.

Dean set his coffee aside and laced his fingers together.

"Cas, I-" he turned towards Cas and lifted his head, moving his hand up his own forearm to grip it tightly. Dean felt so small every time he did this, like he was a kid being punished. Like his dad would be there when he looked back, disappointed, and ready to hit him.

When Cas' soft eyes met his Dean dropped his gaze, ashamed.

"I-I'm sorry I talked to you like that. You know. Earlier. I just get so... I just get so angry."

"I know. It was stressful for both of us."

Dean felt Cas brush his hand, the one white-knuckling his forearm. Dean's grip softened at the touch.

"You're not in trouble. Can you look at me?" Cas continued. When Dean's eyes met him again, Cas took a hand in his. 

Cas knew. They'd done this before. Didn't make it any easier.

He felt like a child. Like a stupid little kid being taught about how he was supposed to deal with his emotions, not a 41-year-old man. 

_Now now, little Dean, we use our_ words _when we're upset, not our hands. Can you say what you're feeling in big boy words?_ Without _yelling?_

Though, Dean thought, he didn't get these lessons when he was a kid, either. That's why they were here now, he supposed.

Dean pressed his lips together in an attempt to steady himself before continuing.

"Okay. Okay. I um," he squeezed Cas' hand, "I know it doesn't matter, but I was just already upset, and you- the way you were talking to me made me feel like- like I wasn't trying hard enough, like I didn't care. But I do, Cas, I-I... I hate having to do what I did today. But it's the right thing, it's best for them, so they don't... so they don't suffer. Just because I'm used to doing stuff like this don't mean it doesn't get to me." Dean blinked back tears at the thought of that little lamb. He quickly pressed the palm of his hand into his eye and cleared his throat.

"But that, that's no excuse. It's not about me. I _am_ sorry for the way I talked to you. You don't deserve that. I was, I was mad at the situation, not you. I shouldn't have dealt with how I was feeling that way, and... and I'm sorry, Cas."

Dean set his jaw, trying to keep his cool. He still felt his lips purse.

Cas' eyes were shining and a corner of his mouth quirked up. He leaned in close and kissed Dean on the cheek. A tiny gesture, but it made Dean's heart start to beat somethin' fierce. Castiel's hand moved from his and came up to hold Dean's face. Work worn hands held him so gingerly.

Cas pulled away, thumb brushing the stubble on Dean's jaw, close to his ear. "I accept your apology, Dean. Thank you."

A huge weight felt like it had been lifted off Dean's shoulders and he felt a subtle fluttering in his chest. His face and ears immediately felt hot. Talking about emotions did not come naturally to either of them, so these were big steps. Dean knew this, but 40 years is a long time to bottle all your feelings up.

Cas continued rubbing Dean's face with his thumb, seemingly contemplating something.

"I'm... I'm sorry as well. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. I should have known you wouldn't choose that option unless absolutely necessary. I can't imagine how hard that decision must have been."

Cas shifted closer by kept the hand on Dean's face steady. Dean could tell Cas was being patient like he always was. Searching for something in Dean's eyes that would clue him in on what to do.

Dean knew he was freezing up. He felt stiff and scared. This wasn't uncommon. He wanted to respond, wanted to thank Cas, tell him that it was a hard decision, that he loved him, that all he wanted was to be held but. He clammed up. It was still so hard to ask for those things.

Cas knew. 

"It's okay. Here." Cas adjusted himself, scooting over and crawling in front of Dean. 

The blankets rumpled, leaving Dean's thighs exposed. Cas settled in front of him, calves touching Dean's hips. 

Dean still felt stuck. Like if he moved, he would break. He rarely allowed himself to be touched in moments like these before. Dean knew the second he felt safe enough to cry there would be no stopping it. And he would be damned if he let anyone see him cry. As a child, crying was suited for bedrooms. Under covers, into pillowcases. Out in the barn, on the shore of ponds. Into hands and clamped behind teeth.

But not here.

Dean was safe here.

Even after all these years, he still had to remind himself. Dad wasn't here to catch him. Dad wasn't here to chastise Dean for crying, or for being held by another man.

He knew the only thing here was the man he loved. Who, through thick and thin, through anger and sadness, had never left. Called him on his shit, sure. Didn't let Dean get away with pushing him around or cope in the ways Dean used to. But never left.

Dean's eyes were fixed on the bed, staring forward. Head down. No eye contact. 

Warm hands started on his wrists, thumbs rubbing against the bone connecting his hand to his arm. They slid up his arms and squeezed his biceps. Practiced. Careful.

"You know I love you, don't you?"

Gentle lips against the crown of his head. Dean could feel Cas' cheek press on his temple after. 

Cas had changed him. Cas had taken Dean's broken, discarded pieces and made him whole again. He smoothed his rough edges, glued him back together. In moments like these, where Dean felt more broken than ever, like he was regressing, like he was all those terrible things his father told him he was, Cas was there. Even though Dean felt stuck, frozen like a deer in the headlights, Cas could always bring him down. Calm the feral animal Dean felt like in moments like these. Soften the edges. Shape him with his hands, mold him into something better. Kiss him in exactly the right places, the loving press of his lips healing old, invisible wounds. Dean felt the tightness in his body loosen and deeper breaths escape him.

"You don't have to be afraid. No matter how angry or scared you may be. However broken you might feel. I love you, Dean. All of you."

As he spoke, Cas' hands continued moving. Up Dean's biceps to his shoulders, pressing into and massaging the taut muscles there.

Dean felt his lip tremble, feeling safe and comforted and so in love. 

It just took some coaxing for his body and brain to realize that. To break out of the rhythms set by his childhood. That it was okay to talk to Cas about these things, that holding it all in was the opposite of helpful.

He hadn't spoken for a _whole year_ after Mom died. That was just... how he dealt with these things. By _not_ dealing with them. Mulling it over in the middle of the night, crying in corners of the pasture no one could hear, smashing bottles on the concrete. Hurting himself to ease the tension.

Cas started running his hand over Dean's spine and shoulder blades. The other came up to cradle the back of his head. Dean felt Cas' thumb rub the spot just behind his ear.

"You're safe here, I promise."

Dean let himself be held, let Cas hold his head and rub his back. Tears slipped out of his eyes and fell on the mattress between them. 

Dean fought with himself for a moment, biting the inside of his mouth. He took a long, shaky breath.

"Thanks, Cas," he whispered. Dean pulled Cas forward so he was in his lap. They were suddenly chest to chest and Dean felt Cas' thighs circling his waist. He pressed his face into Cas' neck and wrapped his arms around his torso, pulling him close.

"Of course," Cas murmured into Dean's hair. 

At the press of lips to the side of his head, Dean started to cry again.

He allowed himself to get lost in Cas. The way he smelled, how his square palms felt against his shirt and skin, the warm column of his throat against Dean's ear. The sweet nothings Cas said to his aching skull. Slowly, the tension melted away. Dean's sobs lessened and he grew tired. The manual and emotional labor of the day caught up to him.

Dean couldn't tell how much time had passed. He tried to focus on the music to gauge how long it had been, but his racing thoughts and sobs had interfered. 

As Dean's breath evened out, his mind cleared. Now he was just exhausted. He let his head go limp against Cas' neck. The record crooned on.

_"...the begging choir told the captain's man, we all assume the worst the best we can..."_

Dean took a deep breath and pulled away. He wiped at his nose and eyes quickly before looking at Cas.

He looked worn out. Rumpled and cozy in his own special way. His blue eyes were bright in the dim light of their room but the lines in his face and darkness under his eyes were pronounced. It was late.

Words escaped Dean at the moment. There were so many things he wanted to say. How beautiful Cas was, how much he loved him. That the unbearable burden his father left on him felt so heavy sometimes, but Cas was always there to shoulder the weight. Dean was so thankful, so in love, it wouldn't be possible for him to find the right words.

He grabbed the front of Cas' shirt and pulled him into a kiss.

A little noise of surprise met Dean's mouth, but Cas relaxed into it. Both of his thumbs found Dean's cheeks, his other fingers curled behind Dean's ears. Cas was a solid, comfortable force on top of him. It was grounding. Holding him close, pressing themselves together so tight it reminded Dean of a weighted blanket. Sharing warmth and surrounding him, protecting him. Being with Castiel in this moment just felt right. It felt soothing and familiar. It felt safe. It felt like home.

Dean pulled away slightly, so only their foreheads and noses were touching. 

He kept his eyes closed for a moment.

Dean opened them to Cas' sweet face. Tired but endeared. His pink lips turned up in that lopsided grin of his. 

Adoration bloomed in Dean's chest. _My husband,_ he thought, as tears threatened to fill his eyes again.

"I love you so much." Dean smiled, his voice soft and fragile.

The song faded out and the needle on the record retracted before it slid back to its original position. Silence filled the room.

Cas' eyes shimmered back at him with that gentle, loving smile he saved only for Dean.

"I love you, too."


End file.
